


Countdown

by Hambone



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Forced Breeding, M/M, Master/Pet, Mentions of Pregnancy, Racing, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 06:03:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2098365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambone/pseuds/Hambone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Living fast is not always a good thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Countdown

**Author's Note:**

> A weird little idea I had in the shower and just wrote out very quickly.

FOUR

Blurr could hear the shifting and rumbling in the stalls beside him but paid them no mind. Sinking his fingers further into the dirt, he wet his lips with the point of his tongue, recalibrating his optics twice just to be sure.

THREE

The gates slide open, quivering as their oiled mechanics locked into place. The noise would have been tremendous were it not drowned out by the even more impressive roar of the surrounding crowd. Blurr dampened thoughts of that too, now using the open view of the track as a preliminary head start, not in foot but in sight.

TWO

There were small abrasions in the lane where the sweepers hadn’t gotten it just so, areas where he could detect looser gravel than others. His vision wasn’t as strong as some but his perception more than made up for it, and by the time he could hear the revving of his own engine he knew the course by spark.

ONE

Deep breath.

GO

He flew out the gate, scattering the rust red terrain behind him. He always strove for perfection here, always, but there really was no challenge, no rival other than his own previous sprints. Number 37 had looked cocky, certainly, and number 52 had given him trouble in the past, but neither really worried him. On the track he was alone and that was how he liked it, now.  No unpleasant memories, no events worth bothering with. It was him and the fresh air and the little red dot he would pass once every six point eight nano-kliks, observing as he once again destroyed the competition.

The wind had been high earlier and now it positively screamed, a high, angry note in his audio receptors, so he simply switched them off. Once he would have not dared, the noise of the spectators his greatest pleasure, but he didn’t need them now. Didn’t want them, even. The race was the closest thing to normalcy he had anymore.

When he won he almost didn’t realize it. Skidding to a halt in a shower of synthetic turf, Blurr gazed up at the view screens and saw a face, streaked with the condensation of the day’s air, steam billowing from his vents, and was slow to recognize himself. The other racers were back at the gate, having stopped closer to where it was necessary. He could hear their engines roaring even from where he stood, half way across the track from the finish line. The few others still pursuing the end straggled past him, shooting him dark looks, provided they could manage it. He supposed it seemed like he was showing off, but he wasn’t. He had already accomplished his goal.

“You did very well today.”

The praise was far better than the golden keys they had awarded his master, and despite his weariness he stood a little straighter, almost smiling. Shockwave fastened the leash he had brought with them, the fancier one for public events, back on the clasp of his collar and it felt right. Even though he was ignored again a moment later, it was a reestablished connection he had sorely missed.

“It’s hardly a contest anymore, is it?”

Starscream’s comment was intended to be snide but the other Decepticons gathered there brushed it off. There was little he could say these days that would impact anything, as his social standing had changed much since his attempted betrayal. This was not normally something Blurr should have known but Shockwave had an odd habit of telling him inane facts of the higher life. He suspected it was one of the many small tricks he had learned from one of his ownership manuals and that it was done largely to keep him entertained. It worked, and he enjoyed the deep hum of Shockwave’s voice vibrating through his struts as his master pet him slowly, relaying his day while he read.

“I do not race him often,” Shockwave stated, more for the crowd than the former second in command, “only when I desire funds for a non-government backed project. Besides, it is good for the pet. He wasn’t made to do much else.”

There was some nodding and superficial mumbles of agreement. Blurr knew, both from being told and from his own observation, that Shockwave cared very little for this kind of chatter, but Lord Megatron was there and he would partake if it meant approval in that arena.

“It is good to hear that you take your work boundaries so seriously, though I expected nothing less from you.”

Megatron smiled. He enjoyed the races, a symbol of what he had done. He eyed Blurr a minute and he began shifting from foot to foot, suddenly uncomfortable. Shockwave tugged on the leash a little to stop him but Megatron was already leaning in and the sight alone made him freeze.

“You chose very well with this one.”

His entire body bobbed under the weight of Megatron’s hand, a few ungentle strokes across his helm the only attention he was paid for the rest of the conversation. He preferred it that way, honestly. Shockwave was the only one whose attention he desired and Shockwave was the only one who permitted him to speak in return, though in private alone. He felt dirty and overly warm, stray kibble and grit stuck in his seams from the track, and he knit his fingers as he tried to keep from shifting too much.

They were going to a dinner. Shockwave had time to take him home and clean him up but not much else, which was frustrating because he was running a little hot and exacerbated when his master complimented him through the entire shower, waxing and shining him as the groomer had done before the track, but with more true affection and it made his helm swim. He gripped Shockwave’s thigh as he was finishing his own gussying before the door, nuzzling his tank treads with a small whine.

“Later,” Shockwave said, the ghost of a chuckle on his words, but it was not soon enough for Blurr and he was reluctant to relinquish his hold.

Several of the other racers were at the party already when they arrived. He immediately recognized number 37 in the corner, a gold lead very different from the one he had been brought to the race with winding its way around Slipstream’s thing claws. He realized, with dull acknowledgement, that his collar had changed as well to the ceremonial sapphire of the second place winner. Apparently he was as good as he had boasted.

The meal was long and showy and while there was much congratulating Shockwave on his sixty third consecutive win at the courses little attention was paid to Blurr himself, for which he was glad. Shockwave allowed him to curl in his lap for most of it, recognizing immediately the antsy roaming of his optics and fingers. It ended up being a double edged sword, for as grateful as Blurr was for not having to sleep uncomfortably in the corner, his proximity to the latent object of his desires only served to stir him further and he spent much of the dinner shifting uncomfortably. Seeming amused by this, Shockwave made sure to pet him often, sometimes going so far as to tickle across his thighs and stomach. Blurr burned with quiet shame.

He did not listen much to what the conversed about so he was taken by surprise when it came to the point in the evening where the pets were deemed too distracting and let out into the yard so the owners could really get down to business. Blurr could not remember whose home they were at but the grounds they were permitted to play in were large and lush, crystal structures in glassy cages artistically places here and there across the patio. There was a wonderful view of the moons form anywhere you chose to wander. Shockwave would have sneered at the gaudiness of it all.

Most mechs chose to avoid Blurr, as word spread quickly between these groups and no one was particularly fond of his master. He didn’t mind much though as he had long grown past the phase of attempting to participate in normal conversation. Shockwave didn’t take him to parties other than the ones he was required to be at, didn’t waltz up and down the street with friends on a daily basis. Blurr had little to no cultural relationship to the others and it left even less to connect with than usual, and any upset caused to Blurr was an insult to his owner. This was a matter more unpleasant than simply bad blood.

When number 37 approached him he was sure the other mech was stupid. Stupid or new in the circle. He admitted to not remembering having seen the racer before, but that was not uncommon as Shockwave rarely went out at all, much less with his pet in tow.

“They really hate you, huh?”

Blurr was openly startled by the brash approach. He felt as though he should be insulted but was only filled with an odd sensation of pinpricks, as though his systems were being rebooted after a long time offline.

“There have been incidents regarding my master and I that have led other to rightfully believe that interacting with me is not the best idea.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Number 37 cocked a hip slyly, grinning so wide his teeth glinted in the moonlight.

“You don’t seem so dangerous to me.”

It was then that Blurr realized the mech was not stupid; he merely had a death wish.

“As I believe I clearly stated it is not I that you should be afraid of.”

He gestured blindly back towards the house, too far and too dark to see inside but knowing that his point was made. The racer barely batted an eye.

“I’ve never seen something as fast as you, ever.”

He paused a minute to position himself on the fountain adjacent the fence Blurr was resting against, managing to make his body twist into the perfect mold of relaxed apathy.

“I was really expecting to win tonight.”

Blurr could not read him.

“Well you’ll be happy to know that my master doesn’t have me run the circuit often and that much of the stellar cycle the cup will be yours.”

Number 37 laughed.

“That’s not really something I care too much about personally, although my new owner seems to. Little snitty about it too.”

He leaned forward as if he were about to share some secret and Blurr debated whether or not he should just leave.

“What’s your designation?”

Blurr huffed.

“I don’t see why that’s relevant or important.”

“Geeze, no wonder you have no friends.”

The racer leaned back, still smiling although his expression had taken on a quality Blurr did not like to consider.

“Mine’s Rodimus. Just got shipped in from Lower Polyhex and I’m hoping that you’re as bored as I am with these crud sucking lapdogs.”

Despite himself, Blurr felt the corners of his lips tugging up into a smile.

“I’m afraid you’ll find my company short lived and equally boring. My master doesn’t take me out much, especially not to parties like these. I know Slipstream well and she will not be eager to find time with him outside of necessity.”

Rodimus slid forward, a hand trailing down Blurr’s arm, lips brushing his receptor.

“We’ll just have to make it work, then.”

When Shockwave took him home he felt oddly detached from the journey, despite Shockwave’s extra attention to him and his wellbeing, an obvious if not explicit apology for the dullness of the evening. Only it had not been dull. He had met someone. That was news all on its own, but he was suddenly frightened by the prospect of telling his master. It was an odd feeling.

His charge, however, had not dissipated, and when Shockwave pulled him into the berth he was more than enthusiastic again, his mind finally able to focus with the physical stimulation calming his nerves. He spread his thighs wide over Shockwave’s lap and moaned, high and long, as the thick Decepticon spike rose between his legs. His valve was already bare and wet and he stroked its folds along the stiff length in both a display of gratitude and a plead. Shockwave rumbled in pleasure.

“Still eager, then?”

“Yes yes yes yes yes yes sir yes!”

It was as much a prayer as a response and Shockwave granted his wishes, gripping his thighs tightly between massive claws and raising him above the sharp head of his spike. As trained and modified and stretched as Blurr was now, the initial penetration would always burn, and he had learned to revel in it. Squealing a string of off key words and praises, he was lowered onto the shaft until his stomach bulged at the pressure, not quite at the base but doing an admirable job of trying. A slow pulse went through Shockwave’s spike and he rippled in involuntary response throbbing.

Shockwave was big, too big for him to really ride without help, so even as he braced himself across his master’ broad chest and began pumping his hips, the claws remained, lifting and dropping him at a pace he had no control over setting, Shockwave using him as he wished. Blurr could not imagine desiring it any other way. His plating felt how and tight and loose all at once, as if his innards were expanding and contracting with the beat of his spark, processor blissfully clean. When an unoccupied claw found his nub and began rubbing rough circular passes across it he fell forward, unable to keep himself from drooling as he begging and pleaded and wailed in joy.

Blurr came first but that was unsurprising, three or four more overloads rocking his overheating frame before Shockwave finally filled him. had it been a normal night Shockwave would have probably bathed them both, but as it was he merely tugged Blurr closer, humming a pleasant series of notes into his receptor before slipping into the pseudo recharge the preceded his real rest. Like a great and ancient beast, Shockwave’s systems ran on calendars Blurr was not familiar with and protocols he could not understand, but had come to accept as part of the routine. Still, tonight he found it unsettled him to consider and he realized, after some deliberation, that it was because of his earlier encounter. Having a taste of normalcy, even through the silver tongue of another racer, had disturbed the normal track of his thoughts.

 It was a terrible night of rest for him and when the morning cycle came Shockwave was displeased to see his listless demeanor. Displeased but not angry. He was not one to dote but Blurr was cleaned and stroked and spoken too far more than he would have been on a usual morning. Shockwave did not take him out again for several weeks.

When he finally did, though, Blurr was shocked and disproportionately pleased to hear that they were going to another evening dinner at the home of the very seeker whose pet he had spoken with before. He had been unsettled by the incident for what seemed like longer than either necessary or logical, and Shockwave had noticed. He didn’t explain himself but he was certain Shockwave knew, at least to a certain extent. It wasn’t against the rules to fraternize but he felt ashamed of it nonetheless.

Still, when he saw Rodimus loitering at the end of his pretty sapphire and gold leash he was unable to stop himself from shifting from foot to foot eagerly until Shockwave undid his chain.

“It’s alright, sweetness,” Shockwave purred softly, “enjoy yourself.”

The words were laden with hidden promise but Blurr was already across the backyard and shoving Rodimus playfully at the shoulder. He could not recall ever having felt so free. He had never anticipating wanting to.

“Well look who it is!”

Rodimus made no attempt to hide his joy. Blurr could not help but feel flushed by the realization. How wonderful it was to have someone anticipate his presence. He spared one last cursory glance back at Shockwave, but the Decepticon seemed lost in conversation with his fellow socialites and doing a stand up job of ignoring him. Blurr let out a sigh he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“What do you usually do at these gatherings anyhow I mean I see the masters all talking but I’m afraid that I don’t have much to talk about though my vocalizer may have you think otherwise and as I have old you I’m not used to being wanted.”

“Not used to being wanted? Shame shame.”

Rodimus slid his fingers together as if sharpening a knife.

“We do whatever we want.”

He moved in close and purred into Blurr’s receptor.

“What do _you_ want?”

They ran. He had been worried that Rodimus would be averse to the idea as running was work and not play for most but he was overjoyed at the idea. Perhaps merely because Blurr had suggested it. They ran and none of the other pets there could do a thing about it. The yard was large and open and they circled it more times than Blurr could or cared to count. He loved the wind in his throat and the fire in his legs and normally that was enough, but Blurr was surprised to find that somehow the added bonus of glancing back and seeing a smiling face was invigorating.

Of course he was still faster, much faster, but slowing down to accommodate Rodimus’s needs didn’t bother him like he’d expected it would. After a while the laps turned to aimless patterning, swerving and looping around one another in a game more like chase than anything else. He kicked at Rodimus and Rodimus pushed at him and eventually they were in the back corner of the space, far from the other guests, and they tumbled to the ground against the fence in a heap.

Rodimus’s frame was alive with heat. He pushed himself up on his elbows and stared down at Blurr with a sloppy grin.

“Do you ever get sad because you’re faster than everyone else?”

“No,” said Blurr, and he meant it. His master loved him well and he had not been lonely for a very long time. Now, though, a pinch of fear threated through the spinning of his spark, because it made him realize that Rodimus was not Shockwave and would not always be there.

The change in mood was tangible and Rodimus’s smile wobbled. He lay down on top of Blurr, blowing hot air into his face.

“You really didn’t have any socializing before, did you?”

Blurr hissed between his teeth.

“I have bad tendencies to be unintelligible and skittish which make me difficult to approach and my master is known for holding a lot of respect with the others.”

“Hmm.”

They lay still for a moment, in stark contrast with the frantic beginnings of the evening. Rodimus pecked Blurr on the lips several times. Blurr squirmed.

“You’re so strange.”

Smiling peacefully against his neck, Rodimus laughed.

“Not really.”

The entire incident was unusual. Shockwave did not often want to go out and yet he began to, with frequency Blurr could not understand. He tried to, though, wanted to. Everything short of asking was at his disposal, but Shockwave did not let him in on the secret. It worried him to think that perhaps this was being done for him, that the visits to the parties and openings were staged so that he could see his friend. He was uncomfortable thinking anything was being done for his pleasure alone.

Yet they continued going out, and Blurr continued seeing Rodimus, and things continued inexplicably getting better. In the evenings he would lay curled in Shockwave’s lap and Shockwave would tell him so. He did not bring up number 37, although Blurr was sure he knew. Shockwave had never liked or trusted Slipstream and spoke often of her difficulties, but never her pet, never mentioned their apparent closeness. Blurr preferred this.

Then came the night of the private party. Slipstream was there, her pet was there, and no one else. Shockwave had swept some of the furniture out of the way and made himself a warm drink, and when she arrived they sat at the seldom used dining table as if they were old friends and chatted. Blurr was wary, but Rodimus soon distracted him.

“I don’t understand it, it doesn’t make sense,” Blurr muttered, and Rodimus laughed and kissed along his collar line.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to. They never make sense.”

Blurr stiffened and pushed his hands to Rodimus’s chest.

“Shockwave sir doesn’t do things like this,” he insisted, “something is going on,” but Rodimus didn’t care.

The meeting was short and dangerous and Blurr found that he was frightened but could not pin down why. Shockwave overloaded him six times before bed and his mind still raced.

But that’s what this was all about, wasn’t it; the races.

Shockwave took him on a walk.

“You don’t need to be so nervous, dear,” he said, pacing his slow, elegant steps, “though I know it is in you nature.”

Blurr whined.

“Now, now.”

They circled the same corner for the third time.

“I also knew you would be, regardless of the situation, which is why I strived to make things easy for you.”

Blurr pressed close to his leg as they were passed by a couple, ignoring the world around them.

“But you do like him, do you not?”

_Who_ , he wanted to ask, dreading the answer, but then they suddenly swerved off the course they had been travelling and made a bee line for a building Blurr had never considered before. 

“This way.”

Slipstream was there.

“Have you gotten everything ready?”

“Of course.”

The room they went to was sparsely decorated but nice. Thee chairs by a thing table in the corner, a large, soft looking slab in the middle, like a fancy berth. Rodimus was there, his lead secured to a hook around the side of the slab, and as they approached Blurr had a sinking feeling that he would be tethered as well.

“Sir,” he mumbled, tiny fingers dancing along the seams of his master’s thigh, “sir, why are we here?”

Shockwave hummed and pushed him to the berth, just as he’d feared, attaching his leash to the adjacent hook to Rodimus. They did not touch but meaningful glance was shared.

“You sure I’ll get half the cut? Half the cut, that’s what we agreed on?”

Slipstream’s question was almost threat but Shockwave was not bothered.

“Of course. I do not go back on my contracts.”

Blurr was squirming towards the end of the pad, optics flickering between the two master’s faces. He whined and Rodimus grabbed his arm.

“What are you doing?”

“Why are we here?” Blurr snapped back, barely audible over the soft rumbling of the Con’s voices carrying down from above.

Rodimus gave him a guilty look.

“Blurr,” Shockwave turned to them, “my little thing, relax.”

As if he could.

“You did not think all our meetings were mere chance, did you? You two have been brought together for a reason.”

Blurr was shaking.

“Are you prepared to learn it?”

Slipstream scoffed.

“Just do it already.”

She tugged on Rodimus and he fell forward onto Blurr back. They scuffled a moment, embarrassed and confused.

“Demand is high for entertainers, and Rodimus is second best in the tri-polity area.”

Shockwave produced two chips and handed one to Slipstream, murmuring something that only she could hear. Even though he was afraid, Blurr presented the back of his neck without argument as he had been trained when Shockwave approached him, wincing as the chip transferred a small about of data through his sensory net before he had time to read it. Rodimus grunted behind him and he was sure the same thing had occurred there but his helm had begun to swim and suddenly he cared a lot less about why they were here. Nonetheless, Shockwave indulged him.

“You are compatible genetically. We hope to make a small profit off your coupling.”

“A small…?”

Blurr trembled, looking back at Rodimus with clouded eyes. A wonderful warmth was spreading through his system and he had the strangest urge to share it.

“Do not worry about it now,” Shockwave urged them together with gentle claws, “act upon your feelings.”

Blurr did not need further coaxing. Rodimus hugged to him and he returned the affection, rolling over and over on the sheets as they did after a good run. Things just seemed to fit together all of a sudden, as if they had always had the pieces but no knowledge of the machine. They kissed and it was better than it ever had been. Shockwave could not kiss, not ever, and while Blurr loved him he realized he had missed this. Maybe he loved Rodimus a little too.

Spreading his legs, Blurr keened, and they locked together. Rodimus’s spike was so unusual in shape and size, so un-Decepticon that the strangeness alone nearly made Blurr cum. He locked his heels together behind Rodimus’s back, the wheels that had been made into mere ornaments by the removal of his T-cog clocking together softly. He felt dizzy and wild, the ceiling above them swinging this way and that as they rocked together. Shockwave hadn’t touched him in a few days and yet somehow he felt raw, as if he had been rubbing his nodes without pause for days. It was wonderful and he babbled to the entire room about how he loved it, how perfect it was.

Something inside them tugged their chests apart and their sparks flickered together. Shockwave had long ago installed a blocking case around his life force to keep Blurr from accidentally bonding himself, and he thanked his master for it now as he doubted he would have been able to stop himself as it was. His body ached for touch.

Rodimus bit at his throat until little grooves decorated the metal and they overloaded together, perhaps not for the first time in the evening (Blurr could not tell, his brain was muddled and bright and colors crowded his vision). The walls melted around him but at last he felt calm enough to stop, to get some rest, even if it were only brief. He could not see his master but his voice filtered out of somewhere above Rodimus, who still lay, wet and wheezy, inside him.

“That seemed successful enough but I suppose we should wait to be sure. They can be very fickle about these things. I wouldn’t want him to self-terminate the program.”

“Would he?”

Slipstream sounded cheated.

“Doubtful, but as I said you cannot be too sure.”

Blurr whined again, wishing he could understand what they meant. Shockwave’s claws caressed his helm.

“Do you know what is happening, pet?”

“No.”

He was amazed he could even get the word out.

“It doesn’t matter if he gets it as long as it happens and I get my cut.”

Shockwave snorted.

“Hardly. An unhappy pet does not take to spark well. That is why we staged this entire charade in the first place, if you recall.”

There was more talking, attempted one-sided squabbling, but Blurr was focusing more on the heavy feeling in his belly. He felt as though a fist inside him had grabbed his gestation tank and squeezed, not enough to hurt but enough to feel the pressure, and weight. Rodimus’s spike was retracting out of him as he drifted towards recharge, thumbs stroking Blurr’s sides idly, and Blurr realized he was carrying.

He did not want to be. He would be heavy, slow. It would hurt. He tried to surge off the bed but the lingering effects of the drug held him down.

“Sir,” he hissed, urgent, “sir!”

Shockwave’s slitted pupil focused on him.

“Oh, do not fear, pet. You will get to see Rodimus quite often until the emergence. It is very important for your health and the health of the future goods that you retain a pleasant attitude.”

Shocked, unable to speak, Blurr stared up at him. Shockwave was undoing the leash now, tipping Rodimus off him- the bot clung, really clung, not quite growling but resisting all the same, and Blurr could not bear the entire scene. He wanted to go home now, to be alone and isolated as he was before. He would not be alone, though, not for a while now, not with these things growing inside him. He did not have the corresponding coding for hatchling rearing, and his processor ran through list after list of installed protocols searching for it as his panic climbed. He could not do this. He was not ready. He wanted to be alone.

“I am glad to do business with you.” Shockwave gestured vaguely at Slipstream, who bowed as was customary. Rodimus tugged on his chain and barked out a cry as it bit back against his neck.

“Blurr! Wait, wait wait, Blurr!”

Of course, Blurr had no choice in the matter. Carrying. He was overwhelmed. Shockwave stared down at his as he stumbled towards the shower, bleary and dry.

“I’m so proud,” said Shockwave, optic bright, “you have made such a good friend for me, Blurr.”


End file.
